Yield him, who all thy human fons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bofom, one poor root!
Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
Go great with tygers, dragons, wolves and bears;
Teem with new monfters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled manfion all above
Never prefented!-O, a root,-Dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas 3
;3;
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorifh draughts,
And morfels unctuous, greafes his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips!

Enter APEMANTUS.

More man? Plague! plague!

Apem. I was directed hither: Men report,
Thou dost affect my manners, and doft use them.
Tim. 'Tis then, because thou doft not keep a dog
Whom I would imitate: Confumption catch thee!
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected;
A poor unmanly melancholy, fprung

From change of fortune. Why this fpade? this place?
Thi's flave-like habit? and thefe looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear filk, drink wine, lie foft;
Hug their difeas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was.

Shame not thefe woods,

By putting on the cunning of a carper 5.

Be thou a flatterer now, and feek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,

And

3 The fenfe is this: O nature! ceafe to produce men, enfear thy womb; but if thou wilt continue to produce them, at least ceafe to pamper them; dry up thy marrows, on which they fatten with undu ous morfels, thy vines, which give them liquorifh draughts, and thy plow-torn leas Here are effects corresponding with causes, liquorif draughts with wines, and un&uous morf:ls with marrotus, and the old reading literally preferved.

4 1. e. their difeas'd perfumed mistresses.

5 Cunning here feems to fignify counterfeit appearance.

The cunning of a carper, is the infidious art of a critick,

And let his very breath, whom thou'lt obferve,
Blow off thy cap; praise his moft vicious ftrain,
And call it excellent: Thou was told thus ;

Thou gav'ft thine ears, like tapfters, that bid wel

come,

To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis moft juft,
That thou turn rascal; had'st thou wealth again,
Rafcals fhould have't. Do not affume my likeness.
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself.

Apem. Thou haft caft away thyfelf, being like thy felf;

A madman fo long, now a fool: What, think'ft
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy fhirt on warm? Will these moist trees,
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'ft out? will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,

To cure thy o'er-night's furfeit? Call the creatures,-
Whose naked natures live in all the spight

Of wreakful heaven; whofe bare unhoufed trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,

Anfwer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find→→→

Tim. A fool of thee: Depart.

Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Tim. I hate thee worse.

Apem. Why?

Tim. Thou flatter'ft mifery.

Apem. I flatter not; but fay, thou art a caitiff.
Tim. Why doft thou feek me out?

Apem. To vex thee.

Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Doft please thyfelf in't?

Apem. Ay.

Tim.

6 Aquila fenectus is a proverb. We learn from Turberville's book of falconry, 1575, that the great age of this bird has been ascertained from the circumitance of its always building its eyrie, or neft, in the fame place.

་

a

Tim. What! a knave too??

Apem. If thou did put this four cold habit, on
To caftigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
Doft it enforcedly; thou'dit courtier be again,
Wert thou not beggar. Willing mifery

Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before":
The one is filling ftill, never complete;

The other, at high with: Beft ftate, contentless,
Hath a distracted and moft wretched being,
Worfe than the worft, content 9.

Thou should'st defire to die, being miferable.
Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miferable.
Thou art a flave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clafp'd; but bred a dog.
Had'ft thou, like us2, from our firit fwath3, proceeded
The fweet degrees that this brief world affords
To fuch as may the paffive drugs of it

Freely command, thou would't have plung'd thyfelf
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of luft; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of refpect+, but follow'd

The

7 Timon had juft called Apemantus fool, in confequence of what he had known of him by former acquaintance; but when Apemantus tells him, that he comes to vex bim, Timon determines that to vex is either the office of a villain or a fool; that to vex by defign is villainy, to vex without defign is folly. He then properly asks Apemantus whether he takes delight in vexing, and when he answers, yes, Timon replies, What! and knave too? 1 before only knew thee to be a fool, but I now find thee likewise a knave.

8 Arrives fooner at bigb wifh; that is, at the completion of its wishes.

Beft ftates contentless have a wretched being, a being worse than that of the worft ftates that are content.

Alluding to the word Cynick, of which feat Apemantus was.

2 There is in this fpeech a fullen haughtiness, and malignant dignity, fuitable at once to the lord and the man-hater. The impatience with which he bears to have his luxury reproached by one that never had luxury within his reach, is natural and graceful.

3 From infancy. Swath is the dress of a new-born child.
4 Of obedience to laws.

The fugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberlefs upon me ftuck, as leaves

Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every florm that blows;-I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is fome burden:
Thy nature did commence in fufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why fhould't thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee: What halt thou given?
If thou wilt curse,-thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy fubject; who in fpight, put ftuff
To fome the beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!-
If thou had'ft not been born the worst of men,
Thou had'ft been a knave, and flatterer".
Apem. Art thou proud yet?

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem. I, that I was no prodigal.

Time

5. i. e. frame employment for. Shakspeare frequently writes thus. 6 In K. Richard III. Margaret calls Glofter rag of honour; and in the fame play, the overweening rags of France are mentioned.

We yet ufe the word Ragamuffin in the fame fenfe. MASON.

7 Dryden has quoted two verfes of Virgil to fhew how well he could have written fatires. Shakspeare has here given a fpecimen of the fame power by a line bitter beyond all bitterness, in which Timon tells Apemantus, that he had not virtue enough for the vices which he condemns. Dr. Warburton explains worst by loweft, which fome. what weakens the fenfe, and yet leaves it fufficiently vigorous.

I have heard Mr. Burke commend the fubtilty of discrimination with which Shakspeare diftinguishes the prefent character of Timon from that of Apemantus, whom to vulgar eyes he would now refemble. JOHNSON.

Knave is here to be understood of a man who endeavours to recommend himself by a hypocritical appearance of attention and fuperfluity of fawning officioufnefs; fuch a one as is called in King Lear, a finical Superferviceable rogue. If he had had virtue enough to attain the proAtable vices, he would have been profitably vicious. STEEVENS.

Tim. I, that I am one now:

Were all the wealth I have, shut up in thee,
I'd give thee leave to hang it.

Get thee gone..

That the whole life of Athens were in this!
Thus would I eat it.

Apem. Here; I will mend thy feaft.

[Eating a root.

[Offering him fomething.

Tim. Firft mend my company, take away thyself. Apem. So I fhall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. Tim. 'Tis not well mended fo, it is but botch'd;

If not, I would it were.

Apem. What would'ft thou have to Athens ?

Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind.

If thou wilt,

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.
Apem. Here is no ufe for gold.

Tim. The beft, and trueft:

For here it fleeps, and does no hired harm.
Apem. Where ly'ft o'nights, Timon?
Tim. Under that's above me.

Where feed'st thou o'day's, Apemantus ?

Apem. Where my ftomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it.

Tim. 'Would poifon were obedient, and knew my mind!

Apem. Where would'ft thou fend it?

Tim. To fauce thy dishes..

Apem. The middle of humanity thou never kneweft, but the extremity of both ends: When thou waft in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiofity; in thy rags thou knoweft none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it. Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.

Apem. Doft hate a medlar ?

Tim. Ay, though it look like thee".

8 i. e. for too much finical delicacy.

Apem.

9 Timon here fuppofes that an objection against hatred, which through the whole tenor of the converfation appears an argument for it.